A Conversation
by Priva
Summary: Hannibal visits Will in the hospital. Set shortly after 'Savoureux'.


Hannibal visited Will every Tuesday and Thursday, under the guise of assisting

Alana Bloom. After interpreting a segment of a test and making slight tweaks to

Alana's notes, Hannibal would go to Will's cell almost always around noon; at

that time his medications were nearly worn off, but not so much so that he would

become overly agitated at the sight of Lecter. Hannibal would, in a week or so,

recommend to Alana to wean him off.

Hannibal strode over to the glass, and smiled at the man before him.

"Doctor Lecter."

"Will. How are you feeling today?"

Graham rubbed his eyes. "I want to be out of here."

"It won't be too much longer, now."

"You've said that every time you've been here."

"It's only been a week, Will."

"Feels like a million years." He sighed. "How is Alana doing?"

Lecter suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "She is doing fine. As she was last

time."

"She'll barely speak to me other than what's on those prewritten administer's

sheets. Says it might be a conflict, otherwise."

"Lucky for you we were able to convince Jack Crawford of that 'otherwise'." He

paused. "Although you'll probably go through another round with a different

psychologist, for verifiability's sake."

"Don't worry," said Graham, sarcastic smile on his lips, "I know what to say."

Lecter grinned. "Do you?"

Graham lowered his eyes, and his veneer of friendliness was, as was customary,

gone. "When I get out of here-"

"I do hope you won't act rashly, Will. When you are acquitted that will not

erase the fact that you killed two men-" Hannibal licked his lips -"and almost

killed a third."

Will snorted. "They know I was sick. They know. Everyone knows I'm not a

killer."

"I don't know about that, Will."

"_You_-"

"I look forward to the day when we can speak candidly," said Hannibal, "but that

seems to be very far away."

"I thought you said I'd be out soon," Will said with an indignant smirk.

"I wish you wouldn't be so mad at me, Will," said Lecter with an exaggerated

sigh.

"Oh," said Will with a laugh, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know psychopaths could

have their feelings hurt."

Hannibal grimaced and took a step backward. "Delusional, Will."

Will's eyes lit up. "You," he said, "You're calling _me_ crazy? _You_?"

"Quiet down, Will," said Hannibal, voice low. "The guards are looking."

Will grunted and looked at the floor, fists clenched. "Just tell me," he said

quietly, "I know about everyone else, but _her_...just tell me about _her_."

Hannibal bit his lip and clasped his hands together. "What happened was quite a tragedy," said Hannibal. He opened his mouth, then promptly shut it.

"It was me or you," murmured Will, eyes on the ground. "Me or you."

"You'll never know, Will. You'll never be able to recall what you did that

night."

Hannibal could see that Will was shaking. His eyes were becoming cloudy.

"Will. Take deep breaths."

"Don't tell me what to do!" He shouted, and placed his head in his hands.

"You…You killed her, I know! And you're going to kill me! You're going to kill

me! You-"

The guards approached his cell and Lecter backed away swiftly as Will was

cornered and subsequently collapsed into a shivering heap on the floor. Hannibal

took his leave.

Later, Alana swung by Hannibal's office.

"Is he getting worse?" Alana asked, leaning against the sofa. "He

seemed like he was improving."

"His outburst was understandable," replied Hannibal. "He is trying to make sense

of a painful time which he cannot yet allow himself to comprehend. He'll need

cognitive therapy before he can truly begin to recover."

"You think he'll recover?" Alana said quietly, her eyes glistening.

"I think it's possible."

"Do we know if there was any permanent brain damage?"

Hannibal shook his head. "We won't know for some time. We'll have to wait and

see if any symptoms emerge."

"But it's hopeful, right?" Alana sighed. "I just…I can't believe I missed it."

"Don't blame yourself," said Lecter, placing a hand on her back. "None of us

could have ever imagined Will could have such a rare illness."

Alana furrowed her brow and leaned away. "But you did. You had him draw the

clock."

Hannibal paused briefly and sighed. "But I never considered testing him

multiple times."

"At least he's in treatment," said Alana warily. "I just hope he's better soon."

"Yes," said Hannibal, rubbing her back. "He'll be better soon."

"What did he say to you?" asked Alana, rising and walking over to one of Lecter's bookshelves. "Before he...panicked?"

Hannibal placed his hands in his lap. "He is very confused. He believes I killed Abigail Hobbs."

Alana moved an erratic hand through her hair, biting her lip. "He could've killed her and not remembered. Right?"

"It's possible," said Lecter, "although I don't wish to consider that possibility."

"It could've been someone else," said Alana, looking at him. "Right?"

"It could have been anyone. She was in the news. Many people were wanting to blame her for her father's crimes. Someone could've seen her and acted on their false assumptions. If it weren't for such people, she'd still be alive." He lowered his eyes; he could almost feel tears forming. "Such a shame."

"If it wasn't Will," said Alana slowly, "then how could he have-" she shuddered "-What about her ear?"

"Someone wanted to frame him," said Hannibal.

"You think Will's being framed?"

"I can't accept the other option."

"Well, how could somebody have fed him an _ear_?"

"Drugs are powerful things," said Hannibal with a shrug.

"_Was_ he drugged?"

"He could have been."

"Did you ever prescribe him anything?"

"I don't think he ever took anything I prescribed. He wouldn't even take hydrocodone for his headaches."

Alana leaned on the bookshelf. "When did he start having headaches?"

"He made them sound like migraines. Something he'd had since he was young." Hannibal paused. "But obviously they were something different."

"I can't imagine what he must be feeling right now."

Days later, Hannibal arranged for he and Will to speak privately, with a guard

outside the door. It would allow for a more accurate analysis, a lesser chance

of Will's altering answers, he said.

Will was consciously despondent. Cold. Scared. Finally, he yelled for the Doctor

to shut up.

"I really wish you wouldn't be upset with me, Will."

Suddenly his face lit up. "Upset? I guess you could say I'm upset, given that

I'm sitting across someone that could…" He paused, taking loud, shaky breaths.

He met Lecter's eyes very briefly, then fearfully averted his gaze.

"Could what, Will?"

"That could kill me," Will whispered quietly, quickly, as if the mere utterance

of the words would bring on some horrible, inescapable fate.

Lecter was quiet for a moment, visibly displeased. "I hope you haven't lost your

beautiful mind," he said finally, "or your basic reason."

Will shuddered. "You couldn't kill me in here, not with the officer right

outside. Is that it? Wouldn't be practical? It'd be downright stupid?"

Lecter turned his head to the side. "What reason would I have to kill you, Will?

Perhaps the only person in the world to possess such capacity, intuition-why

would I rid the world of that?"

"Oh, it's a shame," said Will, shaking his head. "It's a goddamn shame, but I

know too much." He glared at Lecter. "That's why you killed her, too. She knew

too much."

"You don't know everything," said Lecter suddenly.

"No," said Will. "But I know enough."

"Making conclusions without all the facts," said Lecter. "You will be wrong."

"Well, if I'm wrong," said Will, "Then you'll be wrong, too. About me. Won't

you, Doctor Lecter?"

Hannibal breathed a long sigh. "Why do you have such animosity for me, Will?"

Graham's expression changed; he spoke rapidly. "Yeah, well, I'm sure you could

understand that I'm a bit, uh, miffed, given that you-oh, oh, you know-framed

me."

Lecter's face changed. "You were going to kill me," he said matter-of-factly.

"Not from the start," Graham snorted.

"You were never in any danger of prosecution, Will."

Graham's face became blank. "You...you knew, didn't you? About-"

"Encephalitis. Schizophrenia. Damage resulting from a stroke. All of them are

eligible under the insanity defense."

"You…" Will paused, and breathed deeply. He looked into Lecter's eyes. "What do

you _want_?"

"Bygones should be bygones," said Lecter, smiling. "I think we should start

over."


End file.
